We all know how it goes. The youngest child gets the most attention. The middle child can get away with almost anything. And then there's the oldest. Why do all the rules apply to us? What do we get out of the deal?

I won't lie, there are a lot of things I really do love about being the oldest sibling.

Growing up as the oldest of three girls, I've constantly been reminded to "be a good role model," "lead by example," and to treat my sisters "the way you want to be treated." And, as I whined about this rule of observational learning, I noticed my sisters begin to whine, too. I got the memo. As I learned that I have influence over my sisters, though, I understood the importance of being nice to them and supporting them. I love being able to be a guiding force for my little sisters and to help them where they need it. Whether it be homework or friendships or anything in-between, sometimes my sisters will ask me for help, and knowing that they confide in me for those sorts of things is heartwarming.

My 9-year-old sister and I have always had a special bond with each other, and, for as long as I can remember, I have been able to make her laugh. As silly as it is, being able to play with my sisters and have fun with them is so refreshing, especially when they are below the age of ten. Playing house or hide and seek or even just singing and dancing with them is just wholesome, childish fun that I really do cherish. It's stupid, but sometimes school and work can get overwhelming, and I just need to spend some time bonding with my sisters.

On a more superficial note, not having to get hand-me-downs was always pretty nice, too. Luckily for my sisters, I have a pretty great sense of style. You're welcome, guys.

My sisters and I have definitely had our ups and downs; the amount of hair pulled is too much to count. But, through thick and thin, we have always been there for each other, and will continue to be. I'm really lucky to not only be the oldest sibling, but also to be able call my sisters, my sisters.